The Faith of a Damned Soul
by Leader of Anarchia
Summary: this is a very unusual vamp fic. Check it and see if you like it.


The Faith of a Damned Soul

Sorabushi pulled his cloak further up on his pale face until only his eyes shown through. They were pale gray and no longer showed any hint of life. They appeared to be those of a dead man. He reached inside his cloak and grasped the crucifix that dangled from a silver chain. There was a burning sensation on his palm but he ignored it as he prayed to the Holy Father for strength. He looked out into the distance, but saw nothing but barren, snow covered earth. Snow found its way through the small slit in the cloak that allowed him to see and entered his eyes, yet he did not blink. _I must find a way out of this predicament_.

It was not the cold that worried him, for the cloak that covered every inch of his body save for the sliver that Sorabushi used to see through kept him warm. He hadn't fed for weeks. A normal man would have already succumbed to this. _But I'm not very normal, am I? What normal, sane human would be out in the middle of an enormous blizzard?_ He smiled at the thought, but it would have been invisible to anyone had they passed by. His smile quickly faded from his face only to be replaced by a scowl. The sun was beginning to show through the clouds.

_Of all of my cursed luck._ This was the last thought that went through his mind. He began to convulse dreadfully. His eyes rolled back into his head as his legs gave out under him and he fell to the ground. He was immediately beginning to be covered with a layer of snow.

"Almighty Father, please protect me..." was all he was able to say before darkness took him.

Sorabushi gasped for air as the sun slowly vanished from sight. His chest moved up and down as if some beast was trying to push out of him. His eyes opened and dilated from their cat-like state. Pain racked his body but he was used to this, it happened on several occasions. He slowly sat up, shaking his head as he did so. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision and slowly looked around.

The dimly lit room looked vaguely familiar to him. One wall was covered with newspaper articles, another with numerous weapons. Swords, spears, and axes from medieval Europe as well as feudal Japan. Clustered with these ancient weapons were advanced prototype firearms and military exoskeletons. Hanging from the ceiling was a simple light and fan that was not turned on.

Beside the bed he was sitting on was a bedside table with only a candle on top of its rough wooden surface. The sheet he had been covered with slid off as he stood from the bed, displaying his lean, muscular form. He was very pale and his body was covered with numerous scars. He stood in front of the table and opened the small cabinet door on the front of it. Inside the little compartment were his clothes, all neatly folded and cleaned.

He donned them quickly and looked around nervously for something else that was missing. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the gold of its hilt glow as the light of the candle reached it. Hanging from it was his leather bag that he carried with him at all times. Lying on the floor beside him was his cloak. He walked over to the corner, picked up his pouch and slung it over his shoulder. Also dangling from the same spot was his crucifix. He put it around his neck and picked up his most prized possession. A mystical sword forged by the Archangel that cast Lucifer from heaven, Michael. The metals it was made of were the purest that this earth had ever seen. On the blade, handle, and scabbard where etchings in angelic script.

Sorabushi swung it over his shoulder also and looked around once more. The knowledge of where he was struck him. He was in one of the rooms of his mentor and watcher. This man was the only one that Sorabushi regarded with respect. The old man aided him many times by supplying him with numerous weapons as well as saved his life on several occasions. He picked up his cloak and had just begun to pull it over his head as a voice rang out from the direction of the doorway.

"You won't need that sword out there Sorabushi. I brought you back."

"What? Why did you do that?"

"You wouldn't have made it, son."

"What makes you think that Charles?"

"Because I know your limits, and 200 miles of snow covered wasteland with nothing to feed off of is more than you can handle."

"Who are you to tell me what my limits are?"

"I am the one that took you in and trained you after your father nearly killed you. I am the one that changed you from the evil monstrosity that you were into the person that you are now. I am the one that has saved your life when you tried to do more than you could handle. I am the one human that can break you no matter how old I get." Sorabushi cringed at his words.

"I am sorry, I have dishonored you. Please forgive me." Sorabushi kneeled before the old man.

"All is forgiven by God, but it is Him that you must ask, not me."

"Yes, sir," he said as he once again grabbed his crucifix and uttered a small prayer. Smoke issued from his hand but he maintained his composure. This was a pain he was used to. After finishing the prayer he stood and walked to the wall of weapons.

"What do you plan to do Sorabushi? Go hunting again."

"That's all I can do in this hell hole of a city," Sorabushi replied as he strapped a gun holster on each of his thighs.

"You don't have to do this. You'll never kill enough to make a true difference in the world."

"Well then, I will just have to make a difference one person at a time." He pulled two pistols off of the wall and put one in each holster.

"This is pointless," said Charles as Sorabushi pulled every katana, a japanese sword, from its sheath until he found the one he was looking for. It had a saw blade edge, each tooth honed sharper than a razor. Its tip could easily pierce through Law-General standard bullet and knife proof armor.

"What would you have me do? Work a graveyard shift for Wal-Mart," he asked sarcastically and he mechanically sheathed the sword in a ceremonial manner and slid it into his belt. The old man laughed mockingly.

"Something like that," he replied.

"And what do you think I should put on my resume? That I am 250 years old and a vampire as well as a Hunter. I would really get that job for sure,"Sorabushi said, his voice completely consumed by sarcasm. He picked up a tanto, the knife version of a katana. It was an extremely ancient weapon, forged by the greatest forger of the tanto in history, Yoshimitsu. It was a truly splendid piece of artwork. Made from pure ivory, the handle and sheath of the knife ornately depicts a pack of wolves howling at a full moon. How it had been kept in such good condition that it did not look a day old, Sorabushi did not know.

"Sorabushi," he said, a serious tone replacing the joking one, "is there any way to convince you not to do this?" Sorabushi picked up his cloak and pulled it over his body.

"Sorry Charles, there's not." With that the Hunter walked out into the city. His prey awaited him amongst the mass of concrete and steel of the city and the flesh of its inhabitants.


End file.
